


a life in your shape

by AestuumMaris



Series: Beaujester Week 2019 [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beaujester Week, Best Friends to Lovers, F/F, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, oh my god they were roommates, they were BEDMATES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-11 10:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19926670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AestuumMaris/pseuds/AestuumMaris
Summary: Beaujester Week Day 1: First KissThe thin purple streak curving along Jester’s cheekbone has been catching Beau’s eye all morning.Not that she’s staring; the sun just keeps glinting off the shimmery paint and reflecting into her eyes, that’s all. It’s distracting. She needs sunglasses just to avoid the glare of that paint, it’s brighter than the sun.Jester’s been in and out of her general area all day, but everytime she pops back up, the flash of paint captured Beau’s gaze, and she can’t focus on anything else while Jester is in her line of sight.Because of the glare. Obviously.





	a life in your shape

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Beaujester Week! Sorry to everyone who expected a Jason fic.
> 
> Thanks to Bren for troubleshooting some of this with me, I owe you my life <3
> 
> Hope you all enjoy these blue girls in love

The thin purple streak curving along Jester’s cheekbone has been catching Beau’s eye all fucking morning.

Not that she’s staring; the sun just keeps glinting off the shimmery paint and reflecting into her eyes, that’s all. It’s distracting. She needs sunglasses just to avoid the glare of that paint, it’s brighter than the fucking sun.

Jester’s been in and out of her general area all day, but everytime she pops back up, the flash of paint captured Beau’s gaze, and she can’t focus on anything else while Jester is in her line of sight.

Because of the glare. Obviously.

Beau’s finger twitches, and she opens her mouth to tell Jester she’s just got a little something there, and hesitates. It’s not that noticeable. Someone else would have let her know by now if they’d seen it, right? It’s fine.

And anyway—it’s pretty adorable to see her going around the town, evidence of her chaos proudly shining on her face. It’s a very “fuck you I do what I want” sort of look and she pulls it off effortlessly and adorably, and Beau doesn’t really want to see it go away.

Even if it does drive her crazy every time she catches a glimpse of that paint practically glowing on her face.

“ _Beau_ ,” Jester says, drawing out her name and looking up at her, “d’you want to come back to the inn with me? I want to tell the Traveler all about how I graffiti’d the wall of the general store with the owner who was so rude to Yasha. Technically, it’s better when I don't get caught, but he’s going to think it’s just _so funny_ because it _was_ , Beau, you should have seen her _face_ when she saw it, I thought she’d turn purple! And, oh my gosh, she couldn’t even speak, she just made these little squeaky sounds like,” she breaks off to try and imitate the squeaks, but she can barely even manage a single one before she chokes on her laughter. “And I don’t even mind that I couldn’t finish the piece because her _face_ , Beau, it was so funny,” and her words disappear into laughter, one hand gripping Beau’s upper arm as she leans into her, gasping.

Jester’s helpless giggles drag the corners of Beau’s lips upward as inexorably as if she’d pointed her Wand of Smiles at her. Jester’s eyes are mostly shut, tears escaping at the very edges—tears that, finally, finally, are happy, now that everything is okay again—her elegant eyelashes crinkle as the entirety of her face squishes together in the purest expression of joy, that purple streak standing out on the pronounced apple of her cheek, round with the force of her grin. How can she smile so fucking wide and not split her face open? It’s nothing short of magical. Her whole body shines with the fact that she is well and truly happy, honestly happy, not pretending for anyone else.

Nothing on the face of Exandria better than seeing that, not magic, or a good brawl, or good booze, or a good fuck—nothing in the whole godsdamned world compares to Jester being as happy as she deserves to be.

Beau wraps her free arm around Jester—for support—and presses her lips together, fighting to keep her own laughter contained. She hadn’t even seen the graffiti; there’s no reason to laugh, except that Jester is.

A snort escapes her, and like a dam breaking, she buckles over Jester and the two of them stumble slightly to the side, laughter ripping out of them, the only thing keeping them from collapsing to the ground in a pile the pressure of their arms pushing into each other, holding each other up.

Beau stops laughing first, getting solidly back on her feet with a grin and hauling Jester up with her, still giggling. She’s shining, brighter than Caleb’s Daylight orb thing, looking up at Beau through her teary, sparkling eyes. She heaves a deep sigh as her laughter slows, smile still splitting her face. 

Purple paint still shining on her cheek.

From this close, Beau can see it is somehow still wet, even though it’s been there since the morning. She squints at it, focusing on it like she hasn’t let herself all day.

Oh.

Her eyes flick down to Jester’s lips, then quickly dart away. She resists the urge to look down again, focusing on the top of Jester’s hair instead.

It’s not paint, the shiny purple streak on her face. It’s her lip gloss. She glances down at her lips again, just to double check the shade and for no other reason and yeah, it’s definitely her fucking lip gloss. And she’s been wearing it on her cheek all day.

She doesn’t want to tell her.

“Uh, Jes, you got a little something right,” Beau brings her hand up, intending to just point at the lip gloss, but her hand moves further than she gave it permission to. Her fingers settle below Jester’s ear, curling around the curve of her jaw. Her thumb settles on her cheekbone, and she swipes back and forth, once, twice, three times, removing the persistent purple gloss from Jester’s cheek. Her hand rests there briefly, tracing over her cheekbone. 

Her skin is so. Fucking. Soft. 

What the fuck.

Beau’s eyes drift down, looking at the purple gloss on Jester’s probably equally soft lips. They’re slightly parted, her eyebrows arching just the tiniest bit higher than they usually sit on her forehead. She’s looking straight up into Beau’s eyes, and she feels her face practically catch on fire when she returns the stare. As she does, Jester starts blinking quickly and pretty forcefully, like she’s got something caught in her eye. Her head moves abruptly forward toward Beau with the force of it.

“You good, Jessie?” She asks, casually pulling her hand away. She squeezes her fingers together, feels the remnants of the lipgloss and a tingle in her fingers, and feeling the answering burn in her cheeks. She looks away. “Think it was your lip gloss, maybe. Probably smudged whenever you applied it. I don’t think anyone else noticed, though, you’re fine.”

She chances a glance over toward Jester, who’s making a weird sort of expression she’s never seen on her face before. 

Fuck, she hopes she didn’t make her uncomfortable. Shit. 

She tries to figure out how to apologize, but the weird expression disappears as Jester smiles, rubbing her palm over her cheek.

“Thanks Beau! I must have messed it up this morning. Caleb kept knocking on the bathroom door to tell me to hurry up, and I told him he wouldn’t have to wait for me if he got up earlier, and he said he wouldn’t have to wait for me if I didn’t take so long in the mornings, either, and I felt bad because he sounded like he had to pee, like, really bad so I didn’t have time to do my makeup as pretty as I wanted.”

Beau pulls her head back and tilts it, scrunching up her face. “Well,” she says, an equivocating sound, drawing out the vowel, “I mean, you still look pretty.”

“Aww, Beau!”

“It was just a smudge, anyway, it wasn’t a big deal. And, you know, for what it’s worth, I think you look pretty like, all the time.” Fuck.

_Why did she say that._

“Beau,” Jester said, face squishing up in that adorably wide smile, “if you keep saying things like that I’ll think you’re trying to woo me. Are you trying to woo me, Beau?”

Beau rolls her eyes, hoping to any and all of the gods who might be watching right now that Jester doesn’t notice the heat that must be pouring off her face like a bonfire. “Sure, Jes. Come on, let’s head back to the inn. I’ve been done shopping for an hour anyway, and I’d rather work out in our room than on the street.”

Jester loops her arm through Beau’s and hangs on tight, chattering all the way back to the inn. Beau hums and nods and honestly tried to follow along, but all she can focus on is the feel of Jester’s cold hand on her bare arm and the sticky lipgloss residue on her fingers.

* * *

There’s not a lot Beau misses about Kamordah, with its giant, empty house and her absent, empty parents; to be honest, even if only to herself, she tries to think as little about her life before the Cobalt Soul as possible.

However.

What she wouldn’t give for a fucking washroom attached to their bedroom, or at least not two floors and the length of the building away.

The strands of hair that have escaped the wet pile on top of her head stick to the back and sides of her neck as she trudges up the stairs back to her and Jester’s room.

The room is dark behind the closed door, and she tries to quiet her footsteps so quickly she nearly stumbles, fumbling with the towel, clothes, and weapons she is carrying. Jester must have exhausted herself; usually after such a full day of mischief she wanted to stay up late, high on life, chatting and giggling into the night. 

Or maybe she isn’t exhausted, Beau worries. Maybe she really had been uncomfortable earlier. It’s not like it would be the first time Beau went too far, too fast, and too obvious; although she really had thought she’s getting better at that. At least she can be sure Jester isn’t just playing with her and getting ready to sic a boyfriend on her the minute it moves past kissing. 

Not that she and Jester would ever kiss.

Unfortunately.

But even if they _did_ , and even if Jester decided she didn’t like it—well, it would suck. It would be fucking awful _—_ Jester would never do anything like that that. But she has such a bad habit of bottling up her emotions. There’s nothing in the world Beau wants _less_ than for Jester to let her flirt because she doesn’t want to make Beau sad, or admit to her discomfort. Beau chews harshly on her bottom lip, wavering outside the door.

Fuck it. They can talk about it tomorrow, and Jester’s asleep anyway. There isn't a point to all this navel gazing.

Ugh. Gods. Navel gazing. She's not _Caleb._ Beau shoves her hip against the door handle, muscling it open as quietly as she can.

Jester's sleeping in the side of the bed nearest to the door; they switch off at every town they stay in for the privilege to be the first line of defense in the night. This solution is the most recent and most efficient solution so far; it’s not quite as fun as brawling for it, but it’s definitely more satisfying than flipping a coin. Jester had managed to win the coin toss a few times too many, and Beau complained that her whole deal was being the protector and she learned to be a Sentinel for a _reason_ and she would like to have the chance to use it sometimes.

What followed was a best eight out of fifteen arm wrestling contest which ended up causing a bar fight; Jester and Beau hadn't started it on purpose but, well, when the opportunity arises....who are they to refuse? After that, a mediation session with Fjord and Caduceus, and finally an agreement to alternate towns when they decided that, actually, screw Fjord and Caduceus. They didn’t need supervisors just because their struggles to be each other’s first line of defense was occasionally violent and/or got them banned from rural Dwendalian towns.

Jester’s mouth hangs open wide, snuffling and whistling with each breath, and her cheek and pillow are crusted with drool. It’s disgusting. 

It’s also the most enchanting sight she’s ever laid eyes on. 

Ugh, gods, she’s so far gone.

Jester had kicked and thrashed enough in her sleep that the blanket is piled on the floor and her feet are hanging off the bed, and all her limbs were curled and contorted like one of the performers at the circus, all those months ago. She shivers.

Beau drops her shit on the floor at the foot of their bed and kneels down beside the bed. She, carefully, using every bit of damned dexterity she’s ever learned in her life, pulls Jester’s feet back up onto the bed.

She waits for a second, tense.

Jester huffs a breath and curls in on herself further, disturbed, but, thank all the gods, still asleep. Beau picks up the blanket, stands up, and gently brings it over Jester, who mumbles in her sleep before grabbing the blanket in a vice grip.

Beau feels warmth fill her whole body, starting in her face and spreading everywhere, just watching her. There’s no one in the world like Jester. She’s wonderful, and dedicated, and funny, and so painfully good at whatever she sets her mind to do, and she’s always looking to learn new things, and she can have fun like no Beau has ever met before. She’s more full of love than anyone on the face of Exandria, and Beau is so, _so_ grateful that some of it is for her. There’s nothing better in the world than to be loved by Jester, with whatever amount she’s willing to spare.

And lying in their bed, drooling and mumbling, she’s the most beautiful person who ever lived.

Beau wavers for a second, half bent over Jester, motionless, just watching her. 

She’s never been very good at meditation, but she thinks if she could try again, if she could meditate this time on Jester’s short, strong fingers, on her soft, shiny hair, on her bright laugh, on every wise thing she’s ever said—if she could do that, she’d meditate so long and so good the monks would think she was comatose. She could stay here forever if given half the chance, just being allowed to be near Jester. 

She shakes herself, closes her eyes, and leans the rest of the way to give Jester a kiss on the forehead.

“Love you,” she whispers. “Good night.”

She gets into the other side of the bed, facing the wall, and tries not to think about the feeling of Jester’s skin under her fingers today and her lips tonight, or about how she can feel the heat of Jester’s body and she still feels alone.

 _Gods_ , she wants too much. Why can’t she ever be fucking grateful for what she has? She has so much, why does she have to have these feelings towards a woman who loves her but not the way she wants? She is such a selfish _asshole_.

“Beau?”

She jerks in surprise. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was.” Beau feels the bed shift as Jester props herself up on her elbow, the better to hear each other’s hushed voices. “I woke up when you kissed me.”

“Oh.” Beau grunts. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” She drags a hand through the still-wet hair piled at the top of her head and tugs, just a little, for lack of anything better to do.

Jester doesn’t say anything. Neither does Beau. They just lay there, together, in silence, until Beau gets fidgety.

“Ok, good night, Jes—”

“Do you maybe want to do it again, maybe?” Jester blurts out, and the world freezes around them.

There’s no way in hells Jester just said what she thinks she said.

Beau struggles for a second until finally a “Huh?” squeaks out of her throat.

Jester huffs. “ _Beau_ , do you want to kiss me again?”

“Are you messing with me right now?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you!” Jester sat straight up in their bed, facing Beau. In the dim light, Beau can still clearly see the hurt painted on Jester’s features, as clear as the lip gloss had been earlier.

“No, I know, I’m sorry, I just—what brought this on? I didn’t even think you liked girls.”

Jester squirms for a second, then curls forward and wraps her arms around her knees. “I didn’t either but then...I realized I like _you_ , Beau. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else, ever. And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but, like, I would really, _really_ like to kiss you now. If you want.” 

Beau blinks. And again. “Jester.”

Jester turns to look at her. Beau leans in toward her, slowly. Her eyes drop to Jester’s beautiful lips, still faintly purple. She looks up again, and Jester’s moved closer.

“I love you J—” the words are lost to their lips.

Beau’s hands slide over both of Jester’s cheeks, fingers brushing over the apples of her cheeks before curving along the line of Jester’s jaw and settling behind her ear. She rubs her thumbs over her cheeks as she pulls Jester toward her, dragging her further into the kiss.

Jester wraps her arms around Beau’s shoulders and hauls her just as near, passion building in both of them as the tension of the day, the week, the past few months finally comes to a head in their bead.

Jester breaks the kiss, gasping for air and shoves her head into the crook of Beau’s neck.

She lets out a giggle. And then a snort, and then full blown laughter erupts from her and she surges back up to capture Beau’s lips once again, still laughing.

It’s not delicate or soft. They are many things, between the two of them, but they are not delicate women. Beau starts laughing too, triggered as always by Jester’s irresistible joy, and soon enough the kiss becomes less of a kiss and more of laughing against each other’s lips and occasionally pressing their lips together.

“Jester, I love you, I love you _so much—_ ” Beau pulls away from the kiss, desperately trying to regain some sort of control over her mouth and brain from Jester, who owns them completely.

“I love you, too!” Jester laughs, darting back in for a peck before tossing herself down against the pillow. “This is the best first kiss _ever_.”

Beau shakes her head. “Nah, Jester, this is just straight up the best kiss ever.”

Jester smiles. “ _Technically_ , you know, it can be both, it’s not either/or.” She opens her arms and, as always, Beau follows her down, happy to go wherever Jester wants her.

They lay in the bed they share until morning, in love and at peace and in each others’ arms, and with the promise of many, many more mornings like this to come.

  



End file.
